


Defensive Position

by shinealightonme



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disability, Gen, Hospital, Psychologists & Psychiatrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-18
Updated: 2009-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Morgan gets a visit from the BAU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defensive Position

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://fuggybear.livejournal.com/profile)[**fuggybear**](http://fuggybear.livejournal.com/), with the prompts "Morgan's initial impression of Reid and/or Elle" and "AU featuring Morgan." Originally posted [on LJ](http://shinealightonme.livejournal.com/40729.html).

Nurse Hawthorne was waiting outside his door when his appointment was over, fiddling with her hair nervously. She was new. The nurses here got over their nervousness quickly, or learned to hide it better; no one wanted to seem to weak around the patients, including Derek, although for him, the appearance of weakness was unavoidable.

"Dr. Morgan, you have a call," she said. "I know you have another appointment, but he says it's urgent. He's with the FBI," she whispered, as though this information were too important to be spoken at normal volume.

"The FBI?" A thousand thoughts ran through Derek's head, none of them good – something had happened to Sara or Desiree, or a patient had escaped – "Did he say what was up?"

"No, he just said he was calling from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and it was urgent."

The BAU. Most likely a professional matter, then, and he felt his heart rate climb back down. "Okay, thanks. Tell Crane I'll be a few minutes."

She nodded and strode off quickly; Derek set off at a much slower pace, back to his office on the other side of the floor. He though that by the time he got there to take the call, Mr. FBI Agent would be annoyed, but the voice that answered his greeting was even, patient.

"Dr. Morgan, this is Agent Hotchner of the BAU."

"Morning, Agent Hotchner," Derek greeted, carefully lowering himself into his chair. "Something I can help you with?"

"Yes." The agent wasn't wasting time. "We're working a case, trying to catch a spree killer in Springfield. I was hoping you could provide a consult."

Derek had heard about the case, though he hadn't known the BAU was working on it – keeping it quiet, probably, to try and minimize the press coverage and attention focused on the killer. "Sure," he replied. "Send me the information you have so far."

"That won't be necessary," Hotchner told him. "Two of my agents are on their way to Chicago right now."

Dread flooded Derek once more, clinging to his bones. They wouldn't come here just for him. "This killer's moved here."

"We have reason to believe he might."

"If your killer has really moved that far out of his zone – "

"Then we have a problem," Hotchner finished. "That's why we're having this conversation, Dr. Morgan."

"Right. When do your agents get here?"

"Their plane should land in an hour."

An hour, plus additional travel time from the airport to the institution, gave him enough time to keep one more appointment. It was best for the patients to change the schedule as little as possible, and while Dr. Crane gave him detailed accounts of his sessions, Derek thought it made his papers more accurate when he had first-hand experience of relevant interviews.

His session ran a bit long, though, or else Agent Hotchner had overestimated the flight time, because the agents were waiting for him in his office: a tall skinny guy flipping through one of Derek's books too quickly to be reading, and a brunette who was running her fingers lightly across the old football trophy he kept nearly hidden in a corner as testament to the days when he had two good legs. Her eyes flashed with curiosity or doubt when she saw him, but she hid it quickly and held out her hand. "Dr. Morgan, I'm Elle Greenaway from the BAU, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid."

Dr. Reid hadn't even looked up from the book until she spoke, and he did not offer to shake hands. He looked too young to be in the BAU. Derek wondered if there were some office politics at work here, and immediately felt uneasy with the idea, with his own bitterness.

"Have a seat," he offered, and the agents took the chairs on the other side of his desk and waited for him to lower himself into his own chair. "I gotta say, I'm a little surprised to be getting calls from the BAU."

"My colleague here," Greenaway jerked her head toward Reid, who nodded absent-mindedly, "Assures me that you're an expert in the study of obsessional criminal behavior."

"You could say that," Derek shrugged. He'd written a number of papers on the subject and was working on another currently. Claiming expertise wasn't much of a stretch, and he wasn't one for false modesty. "But with what I've heard about your case, it doesn't sound like my field."

"I'm sure you understand that there is vital information that has not been released to the media." Greenaway didn't actually _say_ "duh," but it was heavily implied.

That was the other agent's cue to fill Derek in on what he didn't know, what they were doing already to investigate – apparently this kid was the brains of the operation. It made a certain amount of sense, at least, that the FBI was willing to bend a few rules to get him into the BAU. The confirmation that he wasn't incompetent, that he would be an asset on this case, should have been reassuring. It wasn't.

Greenaway was staring him down, silently daring him: _okay, hotshot doc, now you know what we know, can you even tell us anything we don't?_ It annoyed him that she had some sort of problem with him – it wasn't his fault that they hadn't caught their guy yet.

Derek still needed more information, but he'd hardly gotten started asking the whiz-kid questions when Hawthorne interrupted, shyly knocking and calling for his attention, "Dr. Morgan – "

"Little busy right now," he snapped, more forcefully than intended.

It must have been serious, though, because she opened the door anyway. "There's a problem with one of the patients. Nelson."

Of course there was. Nelson disliked changes in his routine; he would literally kill over such things. It was too much to hope that he would put up with Crane for a day without complaint.

"Great," Derek sighed, "what is it now?"

"He attacked Dr. Crane."

The response was almost comical; expecting a less serious, less dramatic announcement, the listeners did not immediately make sense of what they'd heard. The second it sunk in, though, the FBI agents sprang to their feet and raced out of the room, knowing more than enough about the kind of patients in this hospital to know how much trouble this could cause. Derek wasn't even on his feet before they were gone, and he cursed that fact while Hawthorne tried to tell him what had happened. He wasn't listening too closely and she wasn't telling it too well, but even so he felt intimately acquainted with the events that had passed by the time he reached the scene to find security taking Nelson away.

"What happened?" he demanded of Greenaway, because she was closest, and because he was slightly unnerved by the fact that she had her gun drawn.

"Reid talked him down," she shrugged. "No biggie."

The prodigy looked a good deal more fazed by what had happened than his partner did, though he snapped out of it a bit when Derek clapped him on the back. "Good work."

"Right." And again, sounding more aware this time, "Right. Thanks."

"Maybe it would be better if we could continue this at our field office? Where there are fewer distractions?" Greenaway asked it as though she wouldn't stand for any disagreement, and Derek was tempted to say no, just to see how she would respond – a woman with that many buttons was just _begging_ to have them pressed – but he really did want to get to work on this case.

Later, he could try to figure out what her deal was, what was up with the kid; why he looked sick after a brief run in with Nelson, why Greenaway was rushing to get them out of the hospital, hovering over the kid while trying to look as though she weren't. Later, he could figure them out; for now, there was work to do.


End file.
